In Third Person
by Zephyr Fyrian
Summary: Draco Malfoy has a plan. He's going to burst into Hermione Granger's office at the Ministry and demand that she go out with him. That is, until Narcissa tells him all about his veela blood. Mildly disheartened with the information that Hermione may not be his mate, Draco follows his plan as far as entering the office. Unfortunately for him, the veela takes over. Onehshot Dramione.


**(PRE A/N) Apparently some people have put this story in their alert list, so either I'm confused as to what the alerts are, or people think that this will be updated. THIS IS A ONESHOT. I'm not planning on writing any more of this story. If I was mistaken about the alerts, sorry about that, but I thought I'd make that clear.**

 **(A/N) This was the only one of the fanfictions that my mother read out loud to me and my brother, and the whole time she was reading I was so nervous that I paced around the kitchen, escaped to another room where I could still hear her, and hid underneath a throw blanket. Near the end another one of my brothers came down to wash dishes and made me feel even more self-conscious.**

 **Luckily with fanfiction, I'm not there feverishly reading over your shoulder and pacing around, so this should be less aggravating for all of us.**

 **Happy Reading!**

* * *

 ** _In_ _Third Person_**

 _June Fifth, 2000. Malfoy Manor Gardens._

Narcissa Malfoy sat on her patio, sipping her tea primly and watching her son's face as she broke the news to him.

"I'm a _what?"_ Draco spluttered.

"A veela, dear," Narcissa sighed, setting her cup down on the small wrought iron table and folding her hands on her lap.

"What in Merlin's name is a _veela?"_ Draco scowled, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

Narcissa rolled her eyes.

"Did you listen in your Defense Against the Dark Arts class?" Narcissa asked, looking at him pointedly. Draco shifted uncomfortably.

"Er," he directed his gaze away from his mother, choosing instead to watch a white peacock strut about the flourishing gardens.

"Draco," Narcissa admonished. "What have I told you-"

"Mother," Draco interrupted, slamming his fist down on the chair's armrest. "You were explaining."

"Ah, yes," Narcissa nodded, picking her tea up again. "You see, veela are incredibly beautiful creatures. They are humanoid in appearance, with light hair and silver eyes. You probably remember the female veela from the Quidditch World Cup when you were fourteen; they were the Bulgarian team mascots."

"Yes, yes," Draco waved his hand irritably. "And?"

"Calm down, dear," Narcissa sipped her tea again, purposely doing so slowly. Her son really needed some patience. "Veela are stronger than the average human, taller, and have heightened senses. Mostly smell, but eyesight and hearing are improved as well. You should experience these effects tonight at midnight. Most veela have birdlike wings and talons, which appear when the veela is angry or jealous, etc. Do keep your temper in check, darling, veela can be quite destructive when angered."

"Okay," Draco nodded. "What's the catch?"

Narcissa bit her lip. Draco wasn't going to take this well.

"Veela," she began, tapping her fingers on the china cup agitatedly. "Are animalistic in nature, meaning they have the primal instinct to reproduce."

Draco's expression became uncomfortable as he took in his mother's words.

"When combined with magic," Narcissa hesitated, wondering whether or not it was safe to tell her son the extent of her knowledge. "Ahem. When combined with magic, the animal instinct causes the veela to imprint on a certain sentient creature with whom they are equal."

"What does that mean, Mother?" Draco asked warily.

Narcissa took a deep breath, preparing for the onslaught Draco was going unleash.

"It means fate has determined that you have a soulmate and that if you don't find her within a month of your twenty-first birthday, you'll die."

Draco was silent. Narcissa frowned; where was the enraged outburst she was expecting?

"WHAT DID YOU SAY!?"

Oh, there it was.

"I DON'T _WANT_ A SOULMATE!" Draco roared, shooting up from his seat and clenching his fists tightly.

"Draco, darling," Narcissa said soothingly, attempting to calm her son down. "Your soulmate will be perfect for you, absolutely perfect, matched in every single way!"

"But Mother!" Draco pouted, sitting down in defeat. "I had a plan! I was going to ask her out, and now I find out I have a _soulmate?! That's unlawful I say, UNLAWFUL!"_

"Who were you going to ask out, darling?" Narcissa set her empty teacup down and called for a house-elf to take it away.

"Astoria," Draco replied quickly and averted his gaze, his cheeks flushing. "Obviously."

"Darling-"

"Would you _please,_ stop calling me 'darling'?" Draco complained, his shoulders slumping. "It makes me feel like I'm five years old."

Narcissa rolled her eyes again.

"Mmhm, yes darling, of course." she responded, watching her son carefully. "Draco, you and I both know that you don't like Astoria. At least, romantically. Plus, isn't she involved with that Zabini boy?"

Draco scowled. His bluff had been called.

"Fine, so it wasn't her." Draco crossed his arms petulantly.

"Who was it?" Narcissa pressed.

"Hannah Abbott?" Draco supplied.

"MacMillan, darling," Narcissa corrected. "She married Ernie MacMillan last week."

Draco glanced around the garden, as if another excuse would just pop out of the ground like one of Narcissa's many blooms.

"Draco?" Narcissa prompted.

"Fine!" Draco threw up his hands, glaring. "Granger, I was planning on asking Granger out."

"Potter's friend?" Narcissa's eyebrows rose to her hairline. "The Muggleborn girl?"

"Yes," Draco snapped, defensive.

"Oh, don't be so snippy with me, darling," Narcissa reprimanded. "And how, pray tell, did you plan on going about asking Miss Granger out? I recall her having a certain… distaste for you."

"No kidding," Draco muttered. "I was going to burst into her office at the Ministry and annoy her until she agreed to go out with me. Happy, Mother?"

Narcissa rolled her eyes for the third time. Draco was being such a child.

"And now my chances are ruined because I've got a bloody soulmate!" Draco ranted to himself, sulking.

"Draco," Narcissa sighed. "Did you even think that Miss Granger might be your mate? It's highly possible, darling. Oh, I've always wanted a daughter…"

Narcissa trailed off, smiling wistfully into the distance.

"I doubt it," Draco said, seeming a little unsure. "And stop calling me 'darling'."

"Yes, darling," Narcissa replied distractedly. "Do go visit Miss Granger, would you? Tomorrow, that is. After the change. Otherwise, you won't be able to tell. Actually, you might just know as soon as you change, I'm not sure."

"Yes, Mother."

* * *

 _June Sixth, 2000. Ministry of Magic; Department for The Regulation And Control of Magical Creatures._

Draco walked down the hallway, the picture of confidence. After the veela transformation, he was now taller and stronger, something which he figured most women would find attractive. Pansy did, at least. Draco had run into her on his way up to the R. C. M. C. in a lift. She'd very blatantly asked him to snog her, and he'd barely managed to escape out of the lift before she jumped on him.

With the veela in him rising to the surface, Draco's behaviors altered a little bit as well. He was generally more social, had quicker reflexes, and his magic had improved greatly. He also discovered he could thrust flaming balls of fire from his palms when riled. A fourth of Narcissa's garden could attest to that.

Currently, he was on his way to Hermione Granger's office, planning on barging in and demanding she go out with him. It was kind of faulty, Draco admitted, but he never was really cunning, despite his old House being Slytherin.

He reached the door and threw it open, strutting in arrogantly with his nose in the air.

A short woman was just about to sit down at her desk, a coffee cup in her hand. She looked up, startled to see him, and quickly set her cup down. Her mass of bushy brown curls fell around her face in disarray as she shook her head to clear it.

"Malfoy?" Granger asked, curious. "I haven't seen you in years. Why are you here? Trying to take my door off its hinges?"

Draco didn't respond; he was busy staring at her. Had she always been so _pretty?_ Her eyes were such a rich shade of brown, like dark chocolate, and her hair was so adorably frizzy. Draco frowned, wondering why he'd ever insulted her in the first place. Some part of him was screaming for him to return to his senses and go back to being snarky, but that part was so miniscule that it was drowned out by the rest of his mind that was utterly fascinated with Hermione Granger.

Hermione Granger, who was staring at him like he'd gone crazy.

 _"Mate,"_ he heard himself whisper as his brain shut off and his veela took over.

* * *

Hermione Granger had been having a lovely day. She'd eaten a late breakfast with Andromeda Tonks and Teddy Lupin, she'd talked to Harry and Ron over in the Auror office, and Theodore Nott, her secretary, had brought her coffee.

And then everything flew out the window when a certain blonde man burst into her office, his nose stuck haughtily in the air as if he was above everyone else.

"Malfoy?" Hermione said, recognizing the pointed face and oddly pallid skin. "I haven't seen you in years. Why are you here? Trying to take my door off its hinges?"

Malfoy didn't reply. He just stared. It was getting uncomfortable and she was about to break the silence when Malfoy did it himself.

"Mate," he said in a whisper, his eyes never leaving Hermione.

Wary, Hermione approached him, her wand in her hand, though not raised.

"Mate," Malfoy repeated, a little louder this time.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, wondering if he'd been hexed or something.

 _'Should I take him to St. Mungo's?'_ she wondered.

"Hello, Mate." Malfoy said pleasantly, sounding almost childlike. His eyes had widened and he was smiling. _Smiling._ That was the first time Hermione had ever seen him smile.

"Malfoy, are you feeling quite alright?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"Perfect!" he exclaimed in a very unMalfoyish way, beaming down at her.

Hermione was about to voice her concerns about his sanity when he suddenly embraced her tightly, her feet leaving the ground.

"Malfoy!" she gasped, the wind knocked out of her. "Can't- breathe-"

Malfoy immediately set her down, leaning down to examine her.

"Is Mate okay?" he asked, blinking his widened eyes at her.

"What happened to you?" Hermione said, disturbed. She turned to walk back to her desk, but was stopped by Malfoy burying his nose in her hair. "What are you _doing?"_

"Veela is smelling Mate," Malfoy said like it was the most obvious thing in the universe.

"Veela…?" Hermione frowned, but proceeded to her desk.

For the remainder of the time until Hermione's lunch break, Malfoy either sat on the floor beside the desk or behind Hermione's desk chair, his nose stuck in her hair. Hermione had concluded that Malfoy was a veela, there was no getting around that one, and that either _she_ was his soulmate, or he was severely deluded.

She wasn't sure which one was worse.

 _'At least it isn't Cormac McLaggen,'_ she thought, shuffling her papers and preparing to leave.

"Okay, Malfoy," she said, standing up and walking to the door. "I'm going to have lunch with Ginny, 'bye."

She walked out of the office and was halfway down the hallway when she realized Malfoy was following her.

"Malfoy," she said. "What are you doing?"

"Veela is following Mate," Malfoy said plainly.

"I _have_ a name, you know," Hermione muttered, continuing her walk to the lift to take her back down into the Atrium.

"Would Mate be happier if Veela called her 'Hermione'?" Malfoy asked, trailing behind.

"Yeah, uh-huh," Hermione agreed, not really paying any attention to him.

She reached the lift and they entered, heading down. While inside the lift, Malfoy occupied himself by pulling gently on strands of her hair, fascinated by how the little curls bounced back when he let go of them. Luckily for Hermione's dignity, there was no one else in the lift. No one to see as the respected Draco Malfoy acted like a lovesick child while playing with Hermione's hair. That would have been embarrassing if anyone saw.

A few floors before they got down, Malfoy stopped playing with her hair and nuzzled his face into it again.

"Cmph vmmh mmhss mhhph?" he asked, his voice muffled by her copious amounts of bushy curls.

"What did you say?" Hermione asked.

Malfoy pulled his face out of her hair.

"Can Veela kiss Mate?" he said, tilting his head curiously.

Hermione gave a start.

"E-excuse me?" she blubbered. "And my name is _Hermione,_ not _Mate."_

Malfoy looked down.

"Veela is sorry, he did not mean to upset his Hermione." he mumbled.

Hermione instantly felt bad; he looked like a child that had been caught in the cookie jar. This was wiped away when she registered that he'd called her _'his_ Hermione'.

"I am not yours, Malfoy, I am my own person." she snapped.

Malfoy gave her a look like one might expect if he'd seen Voldemort having a pink tea party with Dumbledore. Confused. And then the confusion disappeared to be replaced by amusement.

"Silly Hermione," Malfoy smiled, tugging on one of Hermione's curls. "Veela knows that his Hermione is very independent; Veela means that Hermione belongs to Veela like Veela belongs to Hermione. See?"

Hermione didn't see, but she nodded anyway. This weird third-person style of speech was confusing her. Malfoy then decided to voice his original question:

"Can Veela kiss his Hermione now?"

"No," Hermione said sharply, regretting it a second later after seeing Malfoy's crestfallen look. "Not right now, we're in the Ministry. Maybe after lunch, when I leave. It's a Tuesday, I get off work after lunch today."

Malfoy seemed to like this idea, as he perked up and resumed nuzzling her and fiddling with her locks.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Ginny Weasley, who was sitting in the Leakey Cauldron, waiting for her. "Come on, sit down! How was work today? Did you see Daphne Greengrass's awful haircut? I can't believe that woman still had no taste in fashion. And- hey, Hermione? Why is Malfoy following you?"

Hermione sighed as she sat down opposite Ginny at a booth. Malfoy automatically followed suit, sitting right beside Hermione and looking at her expectantly. Probably wanting to speak again, as Hermione had put a silencing spell on him to shut him up; he'd been rambling about how pretty her hair was in the sunlight and other such nonsense.

"He seems to be a veela and under the impression that I'm his mate." Hermione said bluntly. Malfoy looked over at Ginny and bobbed his head enthusiastically.

Ginny stared at them for a few seconds before bursting into raucous laughter. She banged her fist on the table, panting.

"That's-" she gasped for breath. _"Hilarious!"_

Hermione groaned and slammed her head on the table. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

By the end of the day, Hermione was comfortably curled up on her couch in her flat, Crookshanks snoozing away on her lap. Malfoy wanted to be in constant contact with her, so he was sitting beside her, one arm slung around Hermione's shoulders, the other resting in his lap, his hand stroking Crookshanks' bottlebrush tail.

"Can Veela kiss his Hermione _now?"_ Malfoy asked, his voice bordering on whiny.

Hermione suppressed another moan of boredom.

"Fine," she sighed, motioning for him to come closer.

Malfoy beamed and leaned in, kissing her softly. Then he froze.

"Did I actually spend my day referring to myself in the third person?"

* * *

 **(A/N) Hope you enjoyed this new little oneshot! Thank you ever so much for taking time to read my story, and maybe even drop a review. Come on, you know you want to! ;D**


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